


Whiter Shade of Pale

by shoemaster



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, LA era, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:50:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoemaster/pseuds/shoemaster
Summary: There'd been more than a few mornings like this, where they'd tried to stretch a night off well into the next morning. And maybe once or twice they'd messed around a little, but it hadn't been a big deal. Of course they'd been idiot twenty somethings and oh yeah, Favs hadn't beenengaged to be married.Tommy can't believe what he did at Favs's bachelor party. (And maybe he shouldn't.)





	Whiter Shade of Pale

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to drunktuesdays for the idea, quettaser for reading this as I added things haphazardly and out of order to a google doc and angelsaves for fixing my commas as always.
> 
> advice from me to you, don't put the classic rock song as the title of your doc unless you want to have it stuck in your head for a solid week. Please don't show this work to anyone named in it, it's very, very fake.
> 
> non-standard warning: the premise involves having sex while blackout drunk, not remembering it clearly and a lot of self loathing and recrimination (but it was as consensual as that scenario can get).

A distant laugh pulled Tommy into miserable wakefulness. Immediately, his head was screaming at him, and it only got worse when he cracked an eye open to see the late morning sun streaming through his window. 

He groaned and pushed himself up only to have to bolt for the bathroom - thankfully empty - where he puked up god knows what from the night before. 

"Tommy's alive," a voice that sounded like Dan's said from the hall. 

Tommy wasn't sure that was the case. 

He went to the sink to brush his teeth and froze when he saw his reflection. He had a hickey under his collar bone and something flakey on his stomach. Plus he wasn't entirely sure his underwear was the pair he'd put on the day before. 

He brushed his teeth quickly and hopped in the shower, only to find a bite mark on the inside of his thigh. Fuck. 

They'd been at a casino last night, he remembered that much. He was pretty sure he hadn't lost a rent payment at the blackjack table, which would be more comforting if he knew what the fuck happened after that. 

Tommy needed coffee more than he needed to shave, so he skipped that, carefully choosing a shirt that would cover all the evidence of last night.

From the kitchen, he could hear Lovett out on the deck that overlooked the lake, gleefully lighting into one of Favs's cousins about vaping, and formulated a plan. After his coffee - and maybe some Gatorade - he'd ask Lovett if he remembered Tommy going off with anyone or bringing anyone back to the house. Probably he'd only mock Tommy for it a little before he remembered all the shit Tommy had stayed quiet about, back when they lived in DC. 

But then Robbie, or was it Ronnie? One of Favs's friends from back home looked at him and whistled. "How late were you and Jon up last night?"

Tommy froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. He couldn't possibly mean. There was no way - Favs chose that moment to stumble into the kitchen himself. He looked ragged, but better than Tommy, as usual. For a second, Tommy flashed back to Chicago in '08. 

There'd been more than a few mornings like this, where they'd tried to stretch a night off well into the next morning. And maybe once or twice they'd messed around a little, but it hadn't been a big deal. Of course they'd been idiot twenty-somethings and, oh yeah, Favs hadn't been _engaged to be married_.

Tommy felt sick all over again, and it only got worse when Favs patted him on the shoulder and stole his coffee. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Lovett came in from outside, with the douchiest sunglasses he could find at a diner outside of Truckee on Friday. He grinned at Tommy, and it seemed a little off. 

"How's my lucky boy?"

Instead of the warm feeling Tommy usually got when Lovett referred to Tommy that way, he felt a jolt of panic. Did he know something? Tommy bolted to the bathroom to puke again. 

With his face pressed against the wall and nose practically melded with the toilet paper holder, Tommy tried to calm himself down. He had to act normal for the rest of the weekend, because even if he and Favs had hooked up, that was just between the two of them. And Emily. 

His stomach gurgled at the thought, but he'd held in bigger secrets before, and he didn't want this getting out with everyone around. So he dragged himself off the tile floor and gargled more mouthwash. It couldn't be worse than September 2012, he could do this. 

"The altitude really fucks with your tolerance," Robbie said, like someone who spent an hour yesterday debating the skiing at Tahoe versus Aspen.

Lovett was watching Tommy as he skirted his way around Favs to pour himself a new cup of coffee. “See, if I had let you drink your stuffy old man wine, you would've been puking it all up this morning, so _you're welcome_.”

“What stuffy old man wine?”

Everyone stared at him. “You don't remember?” Lovett asked.

“Uh, no?” He shot a quick look at Favs.

“Dude, you won like three grand at roulette last night,” Robbie said excitedly.

“I what? Wait, roulette? I was playing blackjack last night.”

“And doing a wonderful James Bond impression -” Lovett said, and yeah, Tommy remembered that. Lovett had been leaning over his shoulder and trying to pick a name for himself that could fit in with Moneypenny or Octopussy. It had been distracting, but apparently it didn’t stop him from winning. Not that he could remember leaving the table.

“Yeah, you won a few hundred bucks there, but then these knuckleheads convinced you to put it all on eight -” 

“‘08,” Favs corrected, like that was the important detail Tommy was missing from the night before.

“- and somehow you hit.”

“You seriously don't remember any of this?” Lovett asked. 

“It's not that surprising,” Dan said, coming in to join the conversation. “You passed him about a dozen celebratory shots.”

“Yeah, well.” Lovett’s lack of comeback was uncharacteristically weak. 

“You guys need to get dressed if we’re going to make our tee time,” Dan said, nodding at Favs and Tommy. 

Favs groaned and pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I think I’m gonna pass,” Tommy said quickly. 

“Dude, come on!” Robbie said. 

“You should be grateful,” Lovett said, apparently taking pity on him. “Look at him, he was practically raised at a country club. He was probably baptized in one of those fake ponds. He’d wipe the floor with all of you.”

“Maybe not today,” Dan laughed. 

“You guys have fun, I’m just going to -”

Tommy stole the sunglasses off Lovett’s head and escaped outside. 

 

He sat in the shade of the redwoods, staring blankly at the lake while many Boston accents layered over one another as most of the house got ready to go out, but soon enough a blessed silence fell, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts.

Maybe he should have gone with them.

“You look like Gollum,” Lovett said, dropping into the lounge chair across from him.

“Thanks, man.”

“You aren’t suffering from like, late onset alcohol poisoning, are you? Because I don’t know if our insurance covers an ambulance ride, and they took all the cars to the golf course, which, you know, rude, but -”

“I didn’t do anything bad last night, did I?” Tommy blurted out.

Lovett gave him a long look, lips pursed together. Tommy didn’t know what to make of that, surely ‘you blew our business partner two weeks before his wedding’ wouldn’t require a ton of thought if Lovett knew. “Of course not. Didn’t you hear? You were the conquering hero in the casino. I mean, it was really embarrassing how you were cradling that bottle of wine like it was a newborn child, but -”

Tommy let out a long sigh. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved that Lovett didn’t know what he’d done. He wanted to talk about this with someone, but he’d spent too many years being very aware of who knew what and when. 

“You got mad at me for not letting you play flip cup with a forty-year-old bottle of wine.”

For a moment, Tommy was distracted from the mess he'd made of everything. “No one plays flip cup with wine.”

“No, as I told you many times last night. But apparently when we peel back the layers of your inhibitions, that's your number one secret desire.”

Jon looked out to the lake then, and Tommy was glad. Because apparently that wasn't the end of what happened when his inhibitions were shot to hell, and he was afraid Lovett would see the guilt all over his face. 

“Anyway, you wanted to open it, but I gave it to Dan to hide.”

“Thank you, Lovett.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if he ever gives it back.”

Tommy didn’t really deserve it, anyway.

“And Favs totally kicked your ass at flip cup.”

He closed his eyes behind the stolen sunglasses. He could figure out where the night went from there, it'd happened like that often enough back at The Pad in Chicago. He’d thought he’d grown out of drinking games as foreplay, but the hickeys and flaking come on his stomach said apparently not.

“Figures,” he said finally, when he realized the silence had gone on a little too long. 

 

The remainder of the weekend was rough, but not as bad as it could have been. Tommy was able to avoid Favs by letting the people who didn’t see him nearly every day at work monopolize his time, but there was no escaping Monday morning at the Favreau house. There was no possible way for him to beg off, and he needed to talk to Jon anyway, so he steeled himself before heading over.

That steel warped badly when Emily answered the door. “Hey, Tommy! I heard you had a good weekend.”

“Uh. Um, yeah. Great.” He hoped he didn’t grimace.

“I was just telling Lovett about how a friend of mine was at a wedding where one of the guys broke their foot while up in Tahoe for the bachelor party, so thanks for not letting any of that happen.”

“I didn’t get a thank you,” Lovett said from the couch, sounding suitably wounded.

Tommy pasted on a fake smile. “Uh, well. It was a group effort.”

“Well it’s appreciated. I have to go for a fitting, but I’ll see you guys later.”

Tommy had been hoping to talk to her and Favs after they recorded the pod, but the thought of doing it to her after she got home from wearing her _wedding dress_ felt needlessly cruel. He’d just have to wait for a better time.

 

Apparently there was no such thing as a better time to tell the bride and groom that you were pretty sure you’d fucked the groom at the bachelor party. The days seemed to drag on and fly by at the same time, as Tommy spent a lot of time sitting on his couch staring at his phone, barely noticing what was happening on Twitter, as he tried to figure out what to say and how to say.

On Thursday, he had to tell Tanya to cut twenty minutes of conversation about keeping secrets from his interview with Jennifer, a former CIA cyber threat analyst, and then sit in with Lovett and Favs for ad reads. 

“Parachute sheets, the most comfortable sheets you’ll ever have. Tommy loves his Parachute sheets, which is great because he’s got fucking mono or something and is spending all his time in bed lately -”

“I don’t have mono,” Tommy said, taking the bait even though he knew he shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but if you could see Tommy Vietor this week, you’d think he was wasting away of _something_. What did Beth March die of?”

“Scarlet fever,” Tommy sighed.

“Of course you know that -”

“Spoiler,” Favs chimed in.

“Yeah, this book came out a hundred and fifty years ago, but let’s make sure we put spoilers on it. Anyway, our beloved Tommy needs his multiple sets of Parachute sheets made from the softest Egyptian cotton -”

Tommy sighed and let Lovett roll, just so it would be over with. 

Of course, two days later, Andy showed up on his door step and said, “Wow, Lovett wasn’t kidding.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, buddy. Yeah, it is. Come on, I’m going to take you to my spray tan guy.”

“I don’t need a spray tan,” Tommy said, turning back into his house, even though he knew Andy would just follow.

“You really do. You look like an extra on The Walking Dead. Don’t worry, I won’t have you looking like my brother on The Daily Show.”

Tommy sighed.

“Come on, you’re going to mess with the white balance in the photos on Saturday if we don’t get this dealt with.”

“Right, wouldn’t want to ruin the photos.” That was thinking small, considering he could ruin the entire wedding with a few words. Still, he grabbed his keys and followed Andy out to his car.

 

Lovett showed up at his place the next day. The idea of not letting him in was tempting, but that would have been like hanging a Something Is Wrong marquee above the door, so Tommy just let him in.

“Wow, Andy’s guy does good work. Did you get your abs air brushed on, too?” Lovett waggled his eyebrows as he dropped onto Tommy’s couch, somehow managing to take up two thirds of it. Tommy briefly entertained a fantasy of stretching out against him and resting his head on Lovett’s chest and telling him everything. Unfortunately, even in his own fantasy he didn’t know how that ended without him getting shoved angrily off and probably concussing himself on the coffee table.

“Did you send him over here?” The spray tan had been weird, but Tommy hoped it would stop his mom from asking worried questions when he saw her after the wedding.

“He probably heard the ads.” Lovett bit his lip and then said in an almost alarmingly gentle tone, “So, do you want to talk about it?”

Tommy tried not to freeze as he reached for his water. Did he know something? Should Tommy just tell him. He’d thought about it, more than a few times, but usually it happened at three in the morning, when he knew he’d get killed for calling. “The spray tan?”

Lovett sighed. “Your wasting disease.”

Tommy clenched his fist. If Lovett knew something, he should just _say_ and not make Tommy have to guess. “I don’t have scarlet fever. Or mono. Or consumption.”

“Okay, good, glad to hear you’re not a heroine in a nineteenth-century novel. And you don’t have sudden onset cancer or anything?” Lovett was pinning him with a look.

“That’s not even a - No. I’m not sick, I’m fine.”

“Oh, Tommy,” Lovett said, his tone making it very clear that he disagreed with that. “You know I’m here for you, right? No matter what.”

Tommy gave him a weak smile, and bumped his knee against Lovett’s. “Yeah, I know.”

 

Four days before the wedding, Tommy was surprised to answer his door and find a case of champagne waiting for his signature. The packing slip said he bought it at the casino in Tahoe. Most days he would be excited to have a case of Dom Perignon arrive on his doorstep, but Tommy just shoved the case in his closet and went to finish packing before heading to LAX for his flight to Logan.

What was his best case scenario? If he told Favs what happened, and Favs said he knew, that Emily was fine with it? Like they had some kind of open relationship just for his bachelor party? His wishful thinking was getting pathetic and desperate.

 

He’d been so focused on the upcoming stress of the wedding itself that Tommy didn’t realize that the rehearsal dinner was going to be even worse. A smaller crowd meant fewer places to hide, and there was no loud music and dancing to distract key participants.

He spent the night sitting next to Emily’s uncle, who was apparently quite the world traveler and eager to swap stories with Tommy. He thought he handled it well, but he was tired from two weeks of sleepless nights, trying to figure out what to say and what to do. At least all the bruises were gone, because he was tired of his dick taking interest when he accidentally bumped the bite mark on his thigh.

That was the worst part, the fact that he mostly remembered it being fun and feeling happy while they did it. Like there were never going to be any consequences, like he’d just been handed the best prize of all. It had made jerking off a minefield, and his stress levels just kept creeping higher.

“Are you okay, Tommy? You’re looking a little green.”

“Oh, yeah, no. I’m fine, have you ever been to Hanoi?” Tommy deflected, reaching for his water.

 

It was a beautiful ceremony. Favs cried, like they all knew he would, and even Lovett got a little misty. Tommy put on his best face for the photographer, but mostly just tried to stand toward the back and the side of all the group shots.

Finally, Tommy found himself escorting one of Emily’s friends into the reception, pumping his fist to “Sweet Caroline” as the DJ announced the bridal party.

“And now! For the very first time! Jon and Emily Favreau!”

He clapped and cheered, even as his stomach felt like it was trying to climb up his esophagus.

It got better once dinner was wrapped up, and Tommy wasn't stuck at the head table in sight of everyone in attendance. He thanked whoever might still be listening to him for the small mercy of not having to give a speech. Andy gave a good one, with good laugh lines but still heartfelt enough that Tommy saw their mom tearing up a little. 

"I'm surprised you didn't insist on giving a speech," he said to Lovett while Andy passed the mic off to the maid of honor.

"Who do you think did punch up on that one?" Lovett said, preening as he messed with his pocket square.

Tommy smiled, it was small, but it felt like the first time his face had relaxed in a while. Even if Favs and Emily hated him forever, Lovett probably wouldn't. Probably. He wasn't sure what he would do if Lovett did.

The first dance was three and a half minutes of shame and regret, but Tommy got through it, and he let himself be dragged onto the dance floor once it opened up to everyone. It was fun, in a distant way, like if he were watching from outside, he'd think he was having a good time.

He took a break for a drink refill and ran into a group on the way to the bar. It was Robbie, Lovett, Emily, and some people he didn't recognize. Robbie was all up in Lovett's space, but he turned to Tommy with an overly bright grin. "Tommy! I was just telling them about how you hit it big at the bachelor party. Jon and Jon convinced him to put all of his blackjack profits on one roulette number, and somehow it came up big."

"And he turned around and spent it all on a bottle of wine," Lovett sighed. "If we ever get Winc back as a sponsor, it's going to be gold for the copy."

"Actually, it wasn’t just one bottle," Tommy said. "Uh, a whole case of Dom Perignon was delivered the other day." He'd also found cash stashed in his shoes, but he knew that wasn't the point of the story.

"And you made me drink this swill on my wedding day?" Emily asked. "I expect a bottle chilled and waiting when Jon and I get back from our honeymoon."

Tommy knew for a fact that Obama had sent them a case of the sparkling wine they served at state dinners, but he still made himself laugh and smile. "It’s the least I can do."

Robbie was leaning into Lovett, saying something too quiet for Tommy to hear, and he couldn't help himself when he said, "Hey, I need another drink, what about you?"

Lovett gave him an easy grin, "Sure, but you're buying."

It was an open bar, but Tommy made sure to leave a good tip.

 

At the end of the night, after they’d all waved Jon and Emily off with a column of sparklers, Tommy turned to Lovett. “Can we get out of here?”

Lovett looked a little surprised, probably because it wasn’t really necessary to ask, they were all staying at the same AirBnB. “Sure, just let me grab my jacket.”

He patted Tommy on the shoulder as he passed, and Tommy wanted to lean into the touch but it was too fleeting. Fuck, he was tired.

 

He spent a few extra days in Boston visiting his family while Favs and Emily went on their honeymoon and Lovett went back to LA because “someone has to take care of the dogs and handle our blossoming empire.”

Like Tommy wasn’t going to be answering emails from his mom’s house. 

Still, the time away was good for him, and made it obvious that he couldn’t keep living like this. So the first thing he did when he got back to LA, besides laundry, was head over to Lovett’s house.

It was kind of cathartic, sitting on Lovett’s couch with Leo on his lap like a therapy dog and laying it out. “Just promise that you’ll at least try not to hate me.”

“Tommy, I’m not going to hate you. It’s not your fault.”

Oh. So Lovett did know, or at least suspect. “I know I was drunk, and I don’t even _remember_ but I still slept with him during his _bachelor party_ and then posed and smiled for all the photos at his wedding like nothing happened.”

Tommy put his fingers over his eyes until he saw spots against his eyelids before looking at Lovett. Unsurprisingly, he looked dumbfounded.

“We’re talking about Tahoe, right?”

“No, I mean the other bachelor party I went to this past month.”

"What makes you think your drunk ass could pull Jon Favreau into an adulterous gay fling?" Jon demanded.

"Well it wouldn't have been the first time!" Tommy said defensively. He hadn’t been expecting this to be the part Lovett got stuck on. "Not the adulterous part but the - It's been like a decade and we were both single but -"

He rubbed his hand over his face, wondering if he could just delete the last fifteen seconds of his life, but it was too late.

"You and Favs? _Oh my god_ , were you _dating_ or was it just a couple of bros helping each other out on the campaign bus? Lending a helping hand, as it were."

Tommy could feel himself turn red, and Lovett didn't miss it either. "Oh wow, that was totally it. Wow. I would've joined the Obama train a lot sooner if I had known that was an option. But that doesn't explain why you think you guys had a repeat up in Tahoe."

"When I woke up I was," Tommy's hand drifted to the spot on his collar bone where the hickey had been, and he glanced down to where the bite mark on his thigh had been. "I know when I've had sex, okay. Do we really need to get into that?"

"No, that I'll grant," Lovett said magnanimously.

"And then that guy Robbie asked how late Favs and I had been up the night before, and no one mentioned me bringing anyone back to the house, so."

"You and Favs, huh?" The look Lovett was giving him was strangely fond, considering Tommy was explaining that he was a drunken homewrecker. An accidental one, but one all the same. "Tommy, tell me what you know about Robbie."

"Uh, he and Favs played Little League together, he does marketing or something and -"

"Seemed a little gay?"

"Well," Tommy paused, thinking back. He hadn't liked Robbie much. He had spent the whole first day of the trip drifting back and forth between Favs and Lovett, laughing at Lovett's jokes, patting him on the arm and calling him Jonathan, like anyone ever called him that. And even at the wedding... "Oh. Oh shit."

"There we go."

In hindsight, it was obvious, but Tommy had been hungover and confused and none of Favs’s childhood friends should have been referring to Lovett as Jon. If Robbie hadn’t been badly hitting on Lovett all weekend, this would never have been a problem.

"I didn't sleep with Favs." Tommy thought he might cry from relief. "I slept with _you_."

"If we're talking this decade, anyway."

The last two and a half weeks of anxiety drained from his body so quickly that Tommy felt light headed. "Wait. Why didn't you?"

"Say anything? Well, I didn't realize you'd been beating yourself up over the whole thing because you thought you'd slept with our golden boy co-host. And because I was never made privy to what you two got up to before, I thought maybe you were having a bit of a sexual identity crisis and was trying to give you space. I was being _considerate_."

"Is that why you just left that morning?"

"No, I left that morning because I was hungry and I accurately guessed that you weren't going to wake up for another three hours." Lovett shifted in his seat. "You really don't remember any of it?"

"Um. I was mostly trying not to think about it."

Because the vague recollection of someone laughing against his neck while their hand was palming his cock wasn’t one that made him feel good when he thought that someone was Favs. But if it were Lovett…

“It was a mistake, obviously,” Lovett said abruptly. “You were literally black out drunk and I was only a little bit better.”

“Yeah, but I wanted -” Tommy cut himself off. If Lovett thought it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t time for him to go spilling anything else. He reached down to pet Leo.

Jon snorted, “You just said you didn’t remember.”

“I don’t remember a few hours in detail,” Tommy took a deep breath, still feeling buoyed by the absence of guilt. “That doesn’t mean I don’t remember wanting you.”

“So that wasn’t just a one-off thing fed by statistically improbable victories?” Jon’s voice was light, like he was joking, but he was watching Tommy carefully.

Tommy’s hands suddenly felt hot and itchy, and they needed to move. “No. I hope not, if you didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind? Jesus, Tommy, just kiss me already.”

 

Tommy had Jon backed up against the arm of his shitty couch and would have been content to stay there kissing him for the next long while, memorizing every little sound Jon made and slowly working his hands under Jon’s shirt, but then he turned his head and nearly jumped.

“Jesus Christ, Leo.” 

The dog was practically nose to nose with Tommy, and Jon just started laughing. “Leo, you’re such a pervert. Go hang out on your bed with Pundit.”

Leo wuffed, but didn’t move. 

Tommy sighed and rested his forehead against Jon’s. “I guess we could move. To somewhere with a door?”

That suggestion was a good one; sure, he’d had to throw a ball to distract the dogs long enough to close the door, but now he had Jon spread out on the bed in front of him.

“Jeez, Tommy, you’re looking at me like I’m some kind of Shari’s Berries or something,” Jon said.

He knew what was coming, but he also knew it was his job to provide the set up. “What kind?” he asked as he peeled off his shirt.

“The kind with nuts,” Jon said gleefully, reaching up toward Tommy.

“That was terrible.”

“What, you don’t think that’d be good - ah - ad copy?” Jon asked, inhaling sharply as Tommy settled with one thigh firmly against Jon’s erection. He was only wearing sweat pants, so the thin fabric wasn’t much of a barrier.

“We can’t lose any more sponsors.” 

“You know,” Jon said, nuzzling the side of Tommy’s neck as he fumbled with Tommy’s belt, “your pillow talk was much better when you were drunk.”

“Oh yeah?” Tommy wanted to know everything about that night, but it could wait until later.

“Yeah, ‘oh Jon yeah, you look so good sucking my dick, ooh fuck yeah’. You used all the good swears. You know I like it when you swear,” Jon brushed his thumb over Tommy’s lip, and holy fuck, he hadn’t thought his dick could get harder, but it proved him wrong.

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, just like that.”

Tommy kissed him and kicked off his jeans. “Jon, will you, could you blow me, please.”

“Always so polite,” Jon said, pushing Tommy back. 

Tommy took advantage of the change in position to pull at Jon’s shirt, and Jon snapped the waistband of Tommy’s underwear so they were both shedding clothes while Jon settled between his legs.

“This time you’re going to _remember_ when I suck your dick,” Jon said, his stubble scraping over the inside of Tommy’s thigh.

Tommy tried to relax his grip in Jon’s hair, but every breath against his cock made his fingers clench tighter. “Yes. Fuck yes, I promise.”

He’d probably spent hours of his life looking at Jon’s mouth, watching him talk and drink and smile, and he’d thought about what it would be like to see his lips wrapped around Tommy’s cock, but his imagination couldn’t come close to the reality of it. His lips were wet and shiny as they slid down Tommy’s dick, and he couldn’t help a groan.

“Fuck, yes Jon. Yes.”

Jon hummed a little in approval, and it was all Tommy could do not to buck his hips and try to push further in. He was damn good at this, and Tommy hated every minute of his life that he had wasted before this not _knowing_. 

And Jon, fuck, he was looking up at Tommy with that same smug look he always had when a clever joke landed, but his eyes were dark and his cheeks were flushed. If Tommy forgot this one, it was obviously just self preservation so he wouldn’t pop a semi during every recording session.

He lost himself in the feel of Jon’s wet mouth, the way it looked, and even the sound of his mouth moving up and down Tommy’s cock, coasting on the wave of sensation until it all built beyond his control.

“Lovett. Jon. Jon. Fuck. I’m going to -” he whimpered as Jon backed off and began working him roughly with his hand.

“Come on, Tommy, I want to see you come for me.” Jon’s voice was thick and rough, and that was it. Tommy came all over Lovett’s chest and neck.

“Oh fuck,” Tommy said, trying to catch his breath. “You still have your fucking pants on, what the hell, man.”

Jon was palming himself through the fabric. “What are you going to do about it?”

In two quick motions, Tommy pulled Jon up so they were chest to chest, and shoved down the elastic at his waist until Jon’s dick was freed. It was already leaking when Tommy wrapped his hand around it, and Jon’s resulting gasp was gratifying.

“Next time,” Tommy said in Jon’s ear, “I’m going to blow you.”

“You can’t just _say_ things like -”Jon’s voice gave out before he could finish the sentence. “Faster, Tommy. _Please_.”

Tommy followed directions very well, and dedicated himself to the task at hand, while Jon’s fingers dug into his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping him from floating away. The way they clenched when Jon came was definitely going to leave a bruise for a day or two, and Tommy was fiercely glad. This time he could enjoy the marks left on his body and the memories they were tied to.

They made out lazily for a while before Tommy finally just buried his face in Lovett’s neck, and sighed. 

“It’s two in the afternoon and you’re going to pass out on me, aren’t you,” Jon said.

“Maybe,” Tommy muttered.

Jon nudged him until they were both on their sides and he wouldn’t be trapped underneath Tommy, but didn’t push him away.

Tommy was starting to fade into sleep, probably his first good rest in over two weeks, when Jon pushed up onto his elbow. “Okay, there’s one thing I just have to know.”

“No, Favs and I never fucked, it was just some hand jobs and blow jobs,” Tommy mumbled.

“What? Okay, no, but we’re definitely coming back to that. I just want to know what your plan was. Were you just going to sit idly by and let the guilt of having hooked up with him slowly kill you? Tell them, thinking it might be the worst way to end a honeymoon ever?”

Tommy sighed, and cracked open an eye. “I don’t know. That’s why I was coming over to ask you.”

“And you thought I would know? Oh, Tommy, you sweet, kind, foolish man.”

“I was desperate.”

“Oh, well, obviously.”

Tommy pressed a kiss to Jon’s wrist and closed his eyes.

He fell asleep to the sound of Jon saying, “I really am going to need you to detail everything you and Favs did, and then I’ll write it all down and send it back in time to myself in 2009. It’d get me through a lot of rough nights.”

 

Tommy went with Jon to drop Leo off when Favs and Emily got back from their honeymoon, and even remembered the bottle of champagne. 

“Oooh, I don’t know who I’m happier to see,” Emily said, “Leo or Dom.”

“Well, Dom will never chew a hole in your towel,” Jon said pointedly to Leo.

“Ehh, we got lots as wedding gifts,” Favs said, picking up Leo. “Hey Tommy, you look like you’ve recovered nicely.”

He threw his hands up in protest. “I didn’t have -”

“You wouldn’t believe what the cure was,” Jon interrupted, wiggling his hips a little.

Tommy covered his face with his hands, but it didn’t block the sound of Favs laughing. He should have expected this, honestly.

“You laugh, Favreau, but we haven’t heard Tommy’s verdict yet.”

“Verdict on what?” Tommy asked, only lifting one hand.

“Who’s better in bed, obviously.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy said, over the sound of Emily’s wheezing laughter. “I’m out of here.”

Jon grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him close enough to wrap an arm around. “It’s okay, you don’t have to spare his feelings, he’s got a wife for that now.”

**Author's Note:**

> So drunktuesdays sent me an email saying "at Jon's bachelor party lovett and tommy drunkenly hooked but Lovett was so drunk he thought he hooked up with Favs" and I misread it and went spiraling off in this direction instead. (But ftr, I would still definitely read that one)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://jamwingles.tumblr.com/)


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